Warning Labels
by Leni
Summary: ANIME BASED. Riza and Roy, pre-series. Twelfth of 12 ficlets. death: The one where Maes asks a question - The Second.
1. hunger

**DISCLAIMER:** See profile  
**WORDCOUNT:** 204  
**RATING:** PG-13.  
**SUMMARY:** First of TWELVE FICLETS. **hunger:** The Meeting  
**A.N.:** Written to the prompts from **12_fics** (LJ Comm).  
**FEEDBACK:** It's loved.

_Written for **cornerofmadness**, at the Christmas Requests.  
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**WARNING LABELS  
**_**01/12 - hunger**  
by Leni_

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They are introduced in a superior's office. The General speaks highly of her, but Roy studies her almost hungrily. The arch of her eyebrows, the shape of her neck as it peeks between the collar of her uniform. She eyes him with distrust, and he knows she's already heard the tales about him.

Even taking the gloves out of the account, Colonel Roy Mustang is a legend in Central. Idly, he wonders which one she fears most; that he'll come for her or that she won't resist. There is a reason why no woman stays long under his command.

Neither, he finds out that same day.

They are walking back to his office, and as soon as they enter the empty hallway that will lead to the door, he barely has the time to whirl around and create a spark when Hawkeye has returned her gun to its holster.

The tip of his right ear burns. The bullet traveled that close to the skin.

"That was the warning," she says.

He debates for a second whether he'll make her face a court martial or burn her on the spot.

Neither, he discovers as she walks past him and dutifully starts arranging the paperwork on his desk.

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**cont.** **_02/12 addiction_**

30/12/08


	2. addiction

**DISCLAIMER:** See profile  
**WORDCOUNT:** 280  
**RATING:** PG-13.  
**SUMMARY:** Second of TWELVE FICLETS. **addiction: **The one where Riza continues her training.  
**A.N.:** Written to the prompts from **12_fics** (LJ Comm).  
**FEEDBACK:** It's loved.

_Written for **cornerofmadness**, at the Christmas Requests.  
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**WARNING LABELS  
**_**02/12 - addiction  
**by Leni_

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He is contemplating how to answer a particular correspondence, when he feels long fingers reach into his personal space and pluck the cigarette from his mouth without so much as an explanation. "What the…" He lowers his feet from the desk, straightens in his chair. "Hawkeye?" He never smoked before the war; but it wasn't the only thing that changed after Ishval.

His aide simply stubs out his cigarette on the ashtray. "One chain smoker in the office is enough."

"Go bother Havoc, then."

The other man has the good sense to shove his ever present pack into a drawer and slink out of the office.

Hawkeye raises an eyebrow after the door has closed after the fleeing Havoc. "I don't believe in lost causes." There's a pause. "And neither do you. Sir."

The last word is added as an afterthought, but Roy doesn't care at the moment. What looks suspiciously like a blush has appeared in his lieutenant's neck, and even though she is forbidding it to reach her cheeks, the fact is: it's there. "You're taking care of me?" He's so distracted, he reaches into his pocket for a new cigarette.

Her expression hardens and, with sudden insight, he knows he won't like her next warning. "We'll talk about this," he says, even though both know that the subject is closed.

"Yes, sir."

The required answer forgotten, Roy watches her return to her desk and tries to understand why he lets her get away with it. After another five seconds of deliberation, he gives up and sits back on his chair.

At least she is providing some entertainment in exchange for the one she just made him quit.

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**cont.** **_03/12 lottery_**

30/12/08


	3. lottery

**DISCLAIMER:** See profile  
**WORDCOUNT:** 168 (the shortest of the bunch). Oh, and in case you're curious, the total wordcount is almost 5K, so yes, stories get a little longer later. :)  
**RATING:** PG-13.  
**SUMMARY:** Third of TWELVE FICLETS. **lottery: **The one where Riza complements Roy and Roy compliments her.  
**A.N.:** Written to the prompts from **12_fics** (LJ Comm).  
**FEEDBACK:** I love hearing your thoughts. Thank you for your support, guys. +hugs+

_Written for **cornerofmadness**, at the Christmas Requests.  
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**WARNING LABELS  
**_**03/12 - lottery  
**by Leni_

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She is as good as her records say.

Two shots come from her rifle, and in the distance two men fall to their knees. "You ready?" she snaps back at him. He tugs the recovered gloves over his wrist and nods. "Good," is her brief reply as she brings two more men to their death.

Five minutes later, fire has finished the job. Roy lets himself rest against the wall, rubbing his wrist wearily. "Hughes should be here already," he growls in irritation. The whole thing had been a set up from minute one - they'd known to take his gloves away first. If Hawkeye hadn't come with him…. He turned his head towards her. "Seems I won the lottery when you got assigned to me."

Something in the depth of her eyes brighten at the recognition. "Seems you did."

It's the first time she doesn't tag a 'sir' at the end of a sentence, not even a reluctant one. Roy smiles briefly before closing his eyes again.

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**cont.** **_04/12 hot water_**

30/12/08


	4. hot water

**DISCLAIMER:** See profile  
**WORDCOUNT:** 217  
**RATING:** PG-13.  
**SUMMARY:** Fourth of TWELVE FICLETS. **hot water: **The one where Roy has a date and Riza has tea (The First).  
**A.N.:** Written to the prompts from **12_fics** (LJ Comm).  
**FEEDBACK:** :) Pretty!

_Written for **cornerofmadness**, at the Christmas Requests.  
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**WARNING LABELS  
**_**04/12 - hot water  
**by Leni_

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He doesn't see her in street clothes well into the first year of their acquaintance. For the first time, she doesn't even notice him back.

"Roy?" his date simpers, tightening her jacket against the icy day.

"Yes, dear?" Her name will come back to him in a minute. He hopes.

"Aren't we going in?"

Hawkeye is inside the restaurant, completely oblivious of his surveillance. She is wearing a forest green turtleneck, and the reason he confused her for another pretty girl is her hair. Blonde waves curving into the nape of her neck and then stopping shortly after her shoulder blades.

She's sipping on her tea (He knows it's tea - she always scoffs when someone offers coffee in the office) and the steam rises to play into the shorter hair of her bangs.

"_Roy!_"

He turns to the smaller redhead and smiles conciliatory. The girl is easily appeased. "I've just thought of a better place."

"But…." Everybody knows that this one is the best in Central.

"Don't you trust me, Dora dear?" And he adds a soft touch to the underside of her chin.

She nods before she knows it.

He passes an arm around his date's shoulders and looks back only once. Mercifully, the blonde woman inside is just as oblivious as when he arrived.

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**cont.** **_05/12 greed  
_**30/12/08


	5. greed

_Sorry guys. Been out of town for work. I promise the next update won't take nearly as long._

**DISCLAIMER:** See profile  
**WORDCOUNT:** 260  
**RATING:** PG-13.  
**SUMMARY:** Fifth of TWELVE FICLETS. **greed: **The one where Roy does the sensible thing. For once.  
**A.N.:** Written to the prompts from **12_fics** (LJ Comm).  
**FEEDBACK:** :) Pretty!

_Written for **cornerofmadness**, at the Christmas Requests.  
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**WARNING LABELS  
**_**05/12 - greed  
**by Leni_

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It's late.

Paperwork always makes them late.

"When did I get this invitation?" He takes the small envelope and shakes it in the air. "And why didn't I go?"

"It was a masquerade," his second answers laconically.

"So? Am I not allowed to go to trivial parties anymore?"

"It coincided with the Hughes anniversary."

"Oh." Roy lowers the invitation and wonders whether he should apologize for jumping to conclusions. It takes him perusing three other documents before he decides that yes, an apology is appropriate. He raises his head, and is shocked when he surprises Hawkeye suppressing a yawn.

It _is_ late. His conscience tells him that he should let the woman go home, instead of retaining her in the office because he was lazy all month.

A completely different part whispers to keep her there for as long as he can. He's greedy, Roy realizes. Greedy for more. More time with her. More seeing her. Just _more_.

So he does the sensible thing, "We can leave the rest for tomorrow." It has never boded well for him when he ignored his conscience. And when Hawkeye looks at him, brow already furrowed and ready to scold him for his slackness, he meets her gaze. "Tomorrow, Lieutenant."

The folder in her hand slaps against her desk, but she rises obediently. "See you at first hour." Then, as if each sound has to be extracted forcefully, "Sir."

He watches her go and passes his hand over his brow after she has closed the door. He really hopes he's having a fever - that'd explain things a lot better than the other option.

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**cont.** **_06/12 pets  
_**30/12/08

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	6. pets

_Thank you to words without and YourFavouitePlushie for the constant support. :)_

**DISCLAIMER:** See profile  
**WORDCOUNT:** 432  
**RATING:** PG-13.  
**SUMMARY:** Sixth of TWELVE FICLETS. **pets: **The one where Maes Hughes asks a question (The First).  
**A.N.:** Written to the prompts from **12_fics** (LJ Comm).  
**FEEDBACK:** :) Pretty!

_Written for **cornerofmadness**, at the Christmas Requests.  
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**WARNING LABELS  
**_**06/12 - pets  
**by Leni_

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Roy doesn't even look up when a large shadow slumps heavily on the chair before his desk.

"How do you tell a recently pregnant woman that she can't have a dog?"

Such question does give him pause, and he looks from his report to stare at his best friend. Hughes is obviously expecting a good answer. After all, everybody knows of Colonel Mustang's reputation among the ladies. In this particular moment, though, Roy thinks he'd be better suited to a vacation in the Poles. "I am neither pregnant nor do I crave a pet, Maes."

Hughes lets out a frustrated sigh, but perks up soon enough. "I get your meaning, my friend. I should consult someone who understands better my wife's position."

With a doomed feeling, Roy watches helplessly as Hughes spots the only woman in the office. "Er…." He's about to warn his friend, tell him that comparing Lt. Riza Hawkeye to his loving, sweet wife might not be a prudent choice. But it's too late.

Hughes is already advancing towards her desk, a huge grin on his face. "Lieutenant Hawkeye?"

Roy wonders if his old friend will get the icy stare or a bullet grazing some part of his body. He almost rubs his eyes when Hawkeye smiles warmly.

"I had a question for you," Hughes continues, unaware of the small miracle in front of him.

"I heard." Hawkeye spares Roy a glance, and he thanks his lucky stars for not having had the chance to warn Hughes away. "Maybe if you got her something else?"

"Like a fish?"

Roy squints. He could swear she just bit her lower lip in amusement.

Her voice doesn't carry a hint of laughter, though. "I was thinking of something sweeter," she prompts.

"Or pricier," Roy interjects, catching the drift.

"Oh." Hughes considers that. "Oooh. Chocolate and jewelry? That's good. That's really good!" He beams at Hawkeye and then tips his head towards Roy, waving widely at the both of them as he leaves the room.

"Why didn't he want a pet?" she asks two hours later, in between proofreading his reports.

"Maes is allergic."

"Oh." Her red pen strikes across the paper - probably a whole sentence, by the looks of it. "Dogs are too messy."

"You wouldn't want one?" he asks. It's not often that he has chance to ask her a personal question; and even if pets aren't the kind of 'personal' he's used to, Roy will take what he can.

Her face scrunches at the thought. "I wouldn't have the time."

It's not the same thing, but Roy chooses not to point that out.

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**cont.** **_07/12 procrastination  
_**30/12/08

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	7. procrastination

_Thank you for the reviews. Most of them were 'anonymous', so I couldn't answer them personally. But thanks, Sophie, Serpent Kiss and Vilja. :)_

**DISCLAIMER:** See profile  
**WORDCOUNT:** 660  
**RATING:** PG-13.  
**SUMMARY:** Seventh of TWELVE FICLETS. **procrastination: **The one where males have no survival instincts, except maybe Roy.  
**A.N.:** Written to the prompts from **12_fics** (LJ Comm).  
**FEEDBACK:** :) Pretty!

_Written for **cornerofmadness**, at the Christmas Requests.  
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**WARNING LABELS  
**_**07/12 - procrastination  
**by Leni_

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He's been waiting for the day to end ever since he arrived. Around him, Fuery, Havoc and Falman don't seem to be doing any better.

"It's too hot," Falman complains.

Roy would be moved to nod in complete agreement, if he felt like moving at all.

"I don't even feel like smoking," Havoc says with the saddest sigh.

The door opens, and a courier takes a look at the four of them, drops yet another letter on Roy's desk and after a quick salute "Colonel!", he rushes away, as if afraid that procrastination was contagious.

Another half hour passes, and the most use the waiting files get is when Fuery and Havoc starts fanning themselves with the documents. "I should try to fix that ventilator," Fuery says for what seems the hundredth time today. So far, he's poked at it from the outside and not even asked for his tools.

If he were at least minimally interested, Roy would bring some order to this office. But the last few days have seemed longer than ordinary, and he has the feeling that nothing he does will make it better.

The door swings open again, and this time Roy doesn't even bother to look up. One more piece of correspondence for the growing pile.

_"What's the meaning of this?"_

At the first word, all men in the room opened their eye widely (scaredly), and by the time the question was finished, three of them were standing straight beside their chairs. Roy turns to the annoyed blonde at the door. "Lieutenant," he greets her.

The arch of her eyebrows warns him not to say another word.

His men, obviously, need to get better acquainted with a woman's moods. "Hawkeye!" Havoc's face lights up with a grin. "Are you feeling okay? You shouldn't be out of bed. Why -"

"We missed you," Fuery is saying, stepping forward as if to catch her in a hug. Roy actually winces in sympathy. "I'm -"

Falman doesn't get to say anything, before three quick raps are heard. Then, in unison, "Ow!"

He raises an eyebrow when he sees Hawkeye turning toward him. She doesn't hit him with the back of her knuckles, though. Instead she stands straight and brings her hand to her temple. "Lieutenant Hawkeye. Ready to return to duty." If looks could kill.... "Sir."

Roy nods and waves toward her empty desk.

She looks pointedly at the surface of his own desk, specifically at the twenty-inches-high pile that is already tilting dangerously over the edge.

"Wasn't it the flu? We didn't expect you back so soon," he says as an explanation. To him, it makes perfect sense.

It obviously doesn't have the same effect on her. "I see," she says, lips pursed. "We better start quickly, or we'll be here for the whole weekend."

None of his men dares to groan in protest.

She walks toward her desk and, before she sit, she glances around the office as if she's looking for something. "Why isn't the ventilator working?"

Fuery shoots to his feet and practically runs to the broken appliance. "I'm on it!"

With all his subordinates concentrated on their work, Roy gives himself license to smile fondly at the scene. He really likes that _he_ didn't need to lift a finger to improve things. But if Hawkeye can catch them unaware like that - he chuckles at the memory - then they all need to work on their reaction time. Desperately. "Can't take the weekend. I've scheduled extra training."

It's funny, but he could swear three male voices mutter in protest.

Hawkeye shrugs. "Then we stay here until midnight."

Falman buries his head in a folder. From the corner comes a whine, and they all pretend it comes from the ventilator rather than Fuery. Despire his earlier misgivings, Havoc fishes for a cigarette and lights it.

"It's good to have you back, Lieutenant."

Hawkeye flips open a long overdue report and merely hums in response.

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**cont.** **_08/12 storms  
_**30/12/08

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	8. storms

_I hope everything's alright cuz I'm on a break between jobs. HUGS._ _Thank you for the reviews, __Dragonridingattorney43__, YourFavouitePlushie, Sophie and Dailenna. Promise I'll answer as soon as I have some real breathing space. :)_

**DISCLAIMER:** See profile  
**WORDCOUNT:** 469  
**RATING:** R. for one word  
**SUMMARY:** Eighth of TWELVE FICLETS. **storms: **The one where Roy has absolutely no survival instincts. And Riza knows it.  
**A.N.:** Written to the prompts from **12_fics** (LJ Comm).  
**FEEDBACK:** :) Pretty!

_Written for **cornerofmadness**, at the Christmas Requests.  
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**WARNING LABELS  
**_**08/12 - storms  
**by Leni_

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Roy Mustang does not have brushes with death. He has whole affairs, complete with sordid meetings in the back of an alley and screaming fights with broken furniture and bleeding cuts.

"No, you don't."

It's Hawkeye, and it's the first time he believes in female instincts. His other men are too focused on the enemy, and so was she. She would never allow herself anything but her absolute best. And yet she's somehow noticed his slow progress toward the staircase. He doesn't put it behind her to have reached the same conclusion as him: only if somebody reaches the upper windows do they have a chance to take a full scope of the situation.

Problem is, the enemy knew that already, and most of the walls that should protect the way up the stairs are gone now.

He must go, though, and do it before their bullet supply runs out. He faces her, still unnoticed by the others, and prepares to inform her of his decision. He'll order her to keep her current position, and then he'll make the dash upstairs.

Before he can say a word, Hawkeye cocks her gun and stares back at him. In that second, Roy knows every detail of _her_ plan. She'll follow him. She'll cover his back. Or she'll make him regret having left her behind. "Fine," he growls out. They have no time to argue.

She nods and easily falls in place to his left, exactly five steps behind him as they start at a run. Reach the window, look for their target, strategize how to capture the leaders of this revolt. Because the mission clearly states that they should be left alive for public punishment - Roy reviews all this, to keep himself from rounding about, pulling rank for once and _making_ her stay back.

He chances a minute look at her face, and finds her looking back at him. There's a storm in her eyes, a glimpse of _something_ before she whirls to point her gun at an armed man. That glimpse says that if he dares to get killed in this little suicide mission, she'll find the way to make him pay in the afterlife. And if he ever tries to go on his own again, then she'll just save him the time and kill him herself.

"_Damn woman_," he bites out, sure that the noise around him will cover his words.

And at the same time, Roy thinks that if she gets killed during one of these half-cocked self-assigned tasks… A vision of an inferno swallowing this town assaults him - forget mission statement, forget leaving anybody alive.

"Fuck."

He never swears. But something tells him this is the last time he'll tease death into another close encounter. Not while _she_ will just follow him to the date.

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**cont.** **_09/12 mockery  
_**30/12/08

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	9. mockery

_Thanks as always for the reviews. :)_

**DISCLAIMER:** See profile  
**WORDCOUNT:** 989  
**RATING:** PG-13.  
**SUMMARY:** Nineth of TWELVE FICLETS. **mockery: **The one where Roy realizes that Riza is a girl, and wishes she wasn't.  
**A.N.:** Written to the prompts from **12_fics** (LJ Comm).  
**FEEDBACK:** :) Pretty!

_Written for **cornerofmadness**, at the Christmas Requests.  
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**WARNING LABELS  
**_**09/12 - mockery  
**by Leni_

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He finds out about her birthday the same way he did any of his subordinates': personal files. His men always find their way to his desk, and unless there's important work to be done, Roy grants them the license they ask for.

It's the day before her birthday, and Hawkeye hasn't even risen from her seat except to make herself some tea at midmorning. Last year they'd been deep in the desert, checking out some disturbance rumors, so he hadn't given a second thought to the date's significance. Now Roy looks at her over the documents he found at his desk - neatly typed, ordered by date and only needing his signature to be sent away - and decides that he won't do something as asinine as offering her a free day when she hasn't asked.

Which prompts him to wonder why he'd want to give her a free day at all. Because it's customary, comes the easy answer. Roy nods to himself, glad that he doesn't need to worry about it anymore, and calls Hawkeye over to give her the signed reports.

She gives the papers a quick perusal, then pivots towards the door.

"Lieutenant?"

She stops instantly. "Yes, sir?"

Roy looks for something to say. Anything. "You misspelled General Thompson once - it's missing an H," he covers quickly, because he has a reputation to maintain and calling after subordinates without a good reason isn't part of it.

"I see." She looks for the proper leaf, and skims it until her brow creases. "I'll get to it, sir. Now."

With a sense of doom, Roy watches her walk back to her desk and pull the typewriter to the front. She'll do the whole document from scratch, because of one tiny H. And she'll make wait with her while she does it. He's got to sign it, after all.

Well, there goes his early lunch.

He pulls out a random folder to stave off boredom. It turns out to be the one with his people's personal information. No wonder, he checked it yesterday to make sure he wasn't getting the date wrong, surprised that the request for free time hadn't come yet.

And just like that, he's worrying about it again. It's probably because, when all was said and done, Hawkeye is a girl. Everybody knows of Colonel Mustang's weakness for the fairer sex. It doesn't help that she is so good at her job, or that she is the only woman in his life who actually cares enough to put him in his place. Or that she's saved his life, oh, a couple dozen times already?

She deserves a gift.

Except the only gift he can give her is one she won't like, and his other options…. Roy reviews them: a pretty bouquet, her favorite sweets (dark chocolate with almond filling - he _does_ pay attention sometimes) or a pretty piece of jewelry. No. Any of them would just make a mockery out of his intentions. On a weekly basis, Hawkeye herself must go through a dozen receipts from the florist's, the chocolaterie or the jewelry store - complete with a deep frown and a token protest at how he added those to his regular expenses.

Why couldn't she have been born a man? It would have made Roy's life infinitely easier.

An hour later, Roy is back from his lunch while Hawkeye was still in the mailroom, terrifying some unlucky clerk into checking that all H's were clear on the envelopes.

"Roy!" Hughes enters the room, ever present grin firm in place as he advances toward his friend's desk. "Good. I was afraid you'd convince some girl to take lunch with you." Which is the whole point of early lunches, but by the time Hawkeye let him go, the prettier girls had already been taken. "And you're alone, too." Hughes reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a brightly wrapped box.

With a sinking feeling, Roy watches as the other man puts the small box on his desk. "Say that's not for Riza."

Hughes' eyebrow rises a fraction at his use of her given name. "Indeed it is." He chuckles. "My wife's been at me all week; she really likes that girl. Oh right, tell 'Riza' that she's invited to dinner, too. If she hasn't made other plans."

"Why can't you tell her all that? Or better, give her this -" he points at the box "-at dinner."

"And make a lady wait for her present?" Hughes tuts at the idea. "And I cannot stay because, dear friend, I'm taking my beloved wife to a doctor's appointment." The future father brightens considerably, "Want me to bring the new pictures?"

"They are called ultrasounds, Maes." Last week, at one lunch he'd been treated to five different pictures taken during that morning, and asked seriously if the baby hadn't grown in the interim. Privately, Roy is amazed that Hughes' wife hasn't burned the camera. He might even offer to do it for her. "But sure, bring them over." After all, Hughes is his best friend, and occasionally Roy is capable of selflessness.

"Perfect! I'll see you at seven, then. Gracia is making her chicken roast this time."

"I'm invited?"

Hughes looks affronted. "Of course." The expression changes to one of mischief, "You wouldn't leave me alone with a pregnant woman _and_ your second, would you , Roy?" He brings his hands to his chest in a dramatic gesture. "I thought you liked me better than that."

Roy snorts. "Go. I'll tell Hawkeye."

He'll also open the gift to discover it's a simple pendant on a golden chain. He'll go to the jewelry store and add the matching earrings to the same box.

He won't add his name on the card, but for the first time in his memory, he'll shove the receipt into his pocket and not even _think_ to add it to his list of expenses.

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**cont.** **_10/12 road trip  
_**30/12/08

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	10. road trip

_Thanks to all reviewers. And please, if you find a typo, tell me WHERE it is so I can correct it. :) English is my second language so sometimes I'm slow at spotting them. Thanks again!_

_Author's Notes: About Roy using Hawkeye's given name in the last 'chapter', don't worry. It's not something that will happen often and when it does, I'm just making a point: things ARE changing between them. But I know my canon, and even if -I- think that Roy may THINK of Hawkeye as 'Riza' in the privacy of his own thoughts, I know that he doesn't say her name aloud. :) And I think I'll have to post something similar in **'Big Dog' **(check 'FMA oneshots' if you wanna se that one. Do NOT handle liquids while you're reading it, though.)_

**DISCLAIMER:** See profile  
**WORDCOUNT:** 402  
**RATING:** PG-13.  
**SUMMARY:** Tenth of TWELVE FICLETS. **road trip: **The one where Riza sleeps on the job, and Roy lets her.  
**A.N.:** Written to the prompts from **12_fics** (LJ Comm).  
**FEEDBACK:** :) Pretty!

_Written for **cornerofmadness**, at the Christmas Requests.  
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**WARNING LABELS  
**_**10/12 - road trip  
**by Leni_

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It's six in the morning, and the racket of the train running on the tracks seems to echo into his brain. This mission is taking him and his team to the outer regions of Amestris, and they've been stuck in their compartment since early evening yesterday.

If they don't make any undue stops, they should reach their destination by seven. But in his experience, the further away from Central, the more undue stops on the way. They'll be lucky if they arrive in time to have a proper lunch before they must report to the local authorities.

"Are we there y-"

A quick glare cuts Fuery's whine short. "Keep it down," Roy says shortly.

The three men before him look at each other in obvious confusion, and Roy knows why. In other trips like this, he's been awake before five, and he'd expected his subordinates to follow suit. They know better than to comment on this odd behavior, though, and quickly settle to take the unexpected permission to fall back asleep.

Roy throws his head back and contemplates the metal ceiling.

Without having to turn around, he knows that in the furthest seat, a woman is curled in what cannot be a comfortable position. And yet, she's fast asleep.

He wonders at that. Usually she's the first to wake up after him, reviewing the strategy for the next days in her calm way until the others awaken. He could ask her if there's something wrong, but he already knows the answer: a quick 'No, sir' and a quicker getaway.

Besides, he has a good idea of what's wrong. For the last week she's disappeared for a complete hour before lunch. Finally curious, he'd asked around until someone had directed him to the shooting range. There, a grim-faced Hawkeye was systematically gunning down target after target. After watching her hit the mark with book perfect accuracy, he'd gone back to the office, but not before finding out that his second had been there every day, and sometimes until well into the night.

Well, that explained why Hawkeye hadn't been pushing to finish this month's reports after hours.

It also explained her determined look at the infirmary ten days ago.

It had only been a scratch and - Roy lifts his sleeve to check the mark - it probably won't even leave a scar. Another burn runs high in his right arm, from when he'd moved his hands out of range (snipers always aim at his gloved hands first - right before he uses them to take them out of combat).

Riza - _Hawkeye_ - had looked shocked. As if the sight of his blood had somehow never come up in her plans. From her behavior afterwards, Roy gathers that she's taken an issue to bullets meant for him that aren't hers.

For that, he can forget for one day that he's thoroughfully bored with nothing to do in this compartment, with only the racket of a moving train as company.

She - _It_ - is worth it.

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**cont.** **_11/12 blind date  
_**31/12/08

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	11. blind date

_-hugs Sophie- Thanks for pointing out the typos. Unfortunately, nope, no idea what's wrong with most of the sentences you pointed out. -HIDES-_

_And YourFavouitePlushie, -hugs- You're such a sweetie!_

**DISCLAIMER:** See profile  
**WORDCOUNT:** 402  
**RATING:** PG-13.  
**SUMMARY:** Eleventh of TWELVE FICLETS. **blind date: **The one where Roy has a date and Riza has tea (The Second).  
**A.N.:** Written to the prompts from **12_fics** (LJ Comm).  
**FEEDBACK:** :) Pretty!

_Written for **cornerofmadness**, at the Christmas Requests.  
_

_

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_

**WARNING LABELS  
**_**11/12 - blind date  
**by Leni_

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_

His date has tried bravely to hide her queasiness, but Roy does not have patience for sick women who are not sensible enough to stay at home and nurse a bad cold. He knows he should offer to walk her home, or at least to get her a ride, but he knows her type, and he's not about to get roped into pharmacy errands and _please stay until I feel better?_

So he sends her off with a kiss on her cheek, and he slips a bill into one of the waiter's hands so the boy can call a cab for her.

"See you soon," she - Diane? Diana? Dayanne? - chirps as she leaves.

He smiles tightly and doesn't answer.

Five minutes later their order arrives. He sends hers back to the kitchen, but warns their waitress to bring her dessert anyway. After this change of plans the least he deserves is some meringue to sweeten the night.

He is well into his second course when a familiar voice gasps beside him, "Colonel Mustang!" He turns around and, indeed, Riza Hawkeye is standing there, looking down at him in bafflement. It's the first time she's ever addressed him by his title. As a rule, she uses it in third person, when mentioning him to others.

"Lieutenant," he greets back. "Come sit with me."

She blinks, surprised, and luckily she doesn't notice he's just as surprised by the request. "You're alone?"

Just then, the waitress comes with his chocolate cake and the extra meringue. "Miss Riza," the girl smiles at his second. "Herbal tea like always?"

Hawkeye nods at her, but her eyes narrow when she turns back to him. "You are not alone." Never did a helpless piece of meringue get such an accusing glare.

Roy could explain to her about his D-named date. He could say he's glad she came over, that he has the feeling he'll have a better time now, with her. Instead he pushes the other chair with his feet and motions her in. "I had something of a sweet tooth tonight," he says. Then, as entreatingly as he knows how, "Do sit down. Please."

She looks around briefly, considering his offer or looking for the quickest way out, he doesn't know. But she finally nods and, thankfully, does sit down.

Never has he had a more quiet evening with a woman.

Never has he enjoyed the long silences so much.

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**cont.** **_12/12 death  
_**31/12/08

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	12. death

_Thank you for the lovely reviews, YourFavouitePlushie, _Dragonridingattorney43_, words without, Sophie and Dailenna. It's been a wonderful month, posting these babies and hearing your thoughts. I truly wish I were more of a Royai fan so we could do it again._

_This is the final 'chapter', and I hope you'll forgive the back-and-forth between timelines._

**DISCLAIMER:** See profile  
**WORDCOUNT:** 712  
**RATING:** PG-13.  
**SUMMARY:** Twelfth of TWELVE FICLETS. **death: **The one where Maes asks a question (The Second).  
**A.N.:** Written to the prompts from **12_fics** (LJ Comm).  
**FEEDBACK:** It's like chocolate, except better. And if you mentioned the ficlet you liked best, I'd love to hear it!

_Written for **cornerofmadness**, at the Christmas Requests._

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**WARNING LABELS  
**_**12/12 - death  
**by Leni_

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"Why don't you just tell her, Roy?"

The floor is the recipient of the briefest look of surprise in history, and then, slowly, Roy turns toward his best friend with a calm expression. "Tell who what?"

Hughes gives him a long look, but thankfully doesn't push the issue.

**ooo**

_He had never let the fire run so unchecked. Not even in Ishval._

_But she was on the ground, and she wasn't waking up, and the world tasted of ashes long before the wild flames touched it._

**_ooo_**

"The doctors say she'll recover completely."

He takes the cup of hospital coffee, and suddenly has a craving for herbal tea. With two spoonfuls of sugar. He gulps down the bitter brew before his thoughts can linger there. "They always say that at first."

"Not to you." Hughes swirls the plastic cup in his hands. "Nobody dares lie to the Flame Alchemist."

Roy huffs at the hyperbole; but he hopes that his friend is right.

**_ooo_**

_It was over in a minute, and he hadn't even looked over the charred ruins before he was barking at Havoc to help him carry her body into their transport._

_She still wouldn't wake up._

**_ooo_**

"That shot was meant for me."

Hughes sighs, as if he knew it was coming. "It isn't your f---" Then he remembers whom he is talking to. "You'll get the chance to return the favor," he says instead.

Roy, who'd been rising to his feet to protest, settles deeper into the plastic chair and nods.

There's a look of determination in his friend's eyes. Hughes knows only too well what it means. "Not that you should look for that chance," he tries.

But Roy pretends he isn't listening anymore.

**_ooo_**

_Havoc and Falman had rushed her through the hospital doors, knowing better than to wait for the medics to come to them._

_Roy had stayed in his seat for what had seemed an eternity, curling and uncurling his hands. The gloves moved stiffly, bled from any moisture that cotton always carried. He watched the tear marks that ran from his knuckles to his wrist; they seemed to protest the overuse in that short minute._

_"Sir?" Fuery, still dutifully at the wheel, was waiting for his orders._

_None of his men had commented on the inferno that had turned half a town into smoke and ash, or all those deaths left behind. None would. "Take me to the quarters."_

_Fuery nodded and started the engine. If he noticed his superior looking back at the hospital through the rear way mirror, the smaller man didn't comment._

**_ooo_**

"She is awake."

He closes his eyes in relief. "Thanks, Maes."

"Just tell her." A small smile. "I promise, it's not as daunting as it seems."

Says the happily married man. But he isn't Hughes, and Riza certainly is not Gracia.

Roy stands up and starts towards her room.

**_ooo_**

_She'd have never believed how quickly he could clear the paperwork when he was compelled to. Barely half an hour after he'd stepped in his office, the report was finished, signed and he left Fuery under strict instructions to see it arrived at its destination promptly._

_He paused before the doors to the emergency ward, taking a deep breath._

_"Roy!" It was Hughes. How he'd found out so quickly was a testament to his efficiency at work. The other man put a hand on Roy's forearm, guiding him subtly through the doors._

_"How…?" He didn't continue, afraid of how shaken he might sound._

_Hughes tried to smile, but failed for the first time in his life. "I'll take you to the doctor on her case."_

_Which meant that she was still alive._

_Roy nodded, straightened. If Riza was alive, then she'd never forgive him for crumbling down so publicly. "Thank you, Maes," and miraculously, his voice sounded normal even to him._

**_ooo_**

"Lieutenant."

She looks incredibly small on a bed built to hold burly military men. Her eyes are open, and for the first time, Roy takes a moment to notice their color.

"Hello, sir."

The formal address has a familiar tone now; he wonders why he didn't notice before. "We'll miss you at the office."

That gets him a smile. "The paperwork will; that's for sure." She knows him too well.

He smiles back.

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**The End  
**31/12/08

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Wow. Am I gonna miss posting this series! Hope you enjoyed it!

K&S  
Leni


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